The next day the mailman once again came and was gone for ten minutes then dropped of my mail. I got ready ten minutes early and waited for the Mailman to come but he never did so I went back to my suite and continued my work. One day I decided to spy on this mailman and see what would cause a man to get so disheveled. Some would speculate the Mailman was giving himself pleasure but nowadays even married suburban men sleep with other women so it would take no toll on the man’s soul. I remember when I was little I use to walk the roads and envy the farm life. A symbol for farms which today are extinct due to synthetic food. I like it because it’s a little piece of history. Mine the sweet savory smoke of cherry pie. It ain’t a dealer because everyone has their fix. He scratches his head and looks over his shoulder multiple times before he drops off my mail. Every day at the same time right before he gets to my suite he walks down the alleyway and is gone for exactly ten minutes then returns very nervously. The way they move, their actions, their behaviors, their influences, and their glitches. You wake up, check your calls for new jobs, review cases, take a couple drags, and then continue on your previous jobs which usually involves snooping. I plow through my door like a bear and see once again the info has changed just slightly: time to keep a log. I step into the bar, wave at the bartender, and head up the stairs to add the new information to my info board. The ground dry as dirt is covered in a slight charcoal look like that of an ancient mine shaft. I walk across the street to the bar suite were I stay. A side effect of a broken promise and lack of a conscious. I step through this black hole of depression and escape unscathed from the disaster that I left in the train station. I start to feel like I’m falling into a black hole and my head starts to spin with the feeling of nausea.
I suddenly see the alleyway start to spin like those devices used to hypnotize people. I walk into a dark dead-end alleyway and check the time.
#Warped reality ehentai crack
I crack my neck and massage my purple bruised jaw. I reach up to pull my trusty fedora off, reset my thick sweaty black hair, and place it back on top of my head. My head is throbbing from a withdrawal headache. The tug on my boots grows as the stiffness of my muscles grows from the lack of adrenaline and the increase of withdrawal. I breath in the sorrow of the rain as it tells the sad stories of mid-morning. The small picture suddenly zooming out so I can see what I’m really missing and the clear becoming unknown.
The weight of the scene setting in as I struggle to piece together the puzzle that I thought was simple. I put that behind me as I exit into the downpour. Lights flashing like an old horror movie, train cars on fire, people trampling each other for safety, guns flashing like the flash from a camera, bodies piled one on top of the other, glass shards scattered across the floor, holes in the wall, bullet shells in small piles, a slight smog, the smell of gunpowder in the air, the temperature slightly above normal, a loud roar of screams, and a damp residue from the outside rain. Walls covered in brains, debris, and blood. My hat is missing, blown away in the wind or lost in a sea of people running for their lives. Hands blistered, swollen, and beaten to shit. My head, gushing like a waterfall from a gash in my forehead.
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